Stinger for Vichy

Without so much as a diplomatic hesitation, the U.S. told Vichyfrance last week that a spade is a spade. When flabby, sinister Pierre Laval protested to the U.S. Charge d'Affairs, S. Pinkney Tuck, that the U.S. bombings of Rouen and Havre were "odious aggression," Mr. Tuck did not even pretend to wait for an answer from Washington. Then & there, he told Laval that the U.S. did not aim to kill Frenchmen but all factories in Occupied France operated by or for Germany "would be bombed at every opportunity in the future."

The pleasure of ticking off Laval certainly appealed to elegant S. (for Somerville) Pinkney Tuck. Tall, handsome, with flecks of grey in his sandy hair, "Kippy" Tuck has always liked the social end of diplomacy, was best known for his correct parties, graceful dancing and pleasant, anecdotical conversation.

Descendant of an old Virginia family, Kippy Tuck, now 51, has spent most of his life in Europe. (His father was, for a quarter century, presiding judge of the Mixed Tribunal at Cairo.) Kippy went to school in Switzerland and Germany, returned to the U.S. to graduate from Dartmouth (1913). Then he began a long odyssey through U.S. consulates, legations and embassies, became equally at home in the salons of Paris, international cocktail parties in Geneva, the polo fields of Budapest.

In 1927, when liberal and radical elements in Europe as well as the U.S. were stirred by the Sacco-Vanzetti case, he was consul at Geneva. One night an ominous crowd gathered in front of the consulate, shouted imprecations against "American killers." Tuck listened for a while, then slipped out to join the crowd, shouted in flawless French: "Give us the head of the American consul."

In Vichy, Tuck's knowledge of diplomatic personalities was a great help to Ambassador William D. Leahy. When Admiral Leahy returned to the U.S. to become Franklin Roosevelt's military adviser, Kippy Tuck took over. Salons, cocktail parties and polo fields are all closed but nowadays he would not care to play around. Watching the France he knew trodden under the Nazi heel has been bitter. Last week he had a chance to speak his wartime mind.

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